


Courting a Maiden Fair

by irishlullaby13



Series: Wizard Crane Trilogy [2]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 18:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16539536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishlullaby13/pseuds/irishlullaby13
Summary: Continuation of my fic Wizard. The Wizard Ichabod Crane wishes to court the lovely tavern maid, Abigail Mills. But first he has to get the approval of her sister and her foster father.





	1. Courting a Maiden Fair

There was a still silence on the streets of Sleepy Hollow. Mist rolled in off the river. The tell a tale signs of dawn began. Frogs began to croak and crickets chirped. Birds began their morning songs. Abbie Mills' voice sounded almost ghostly as she walked down the lane and sang

_How many times do I love thee, dear?_  
Tell me how many thoughts there be  
In the atmosphere  
Of a new-fall’n year 

Abbie smiled to herself, fiddling with the charm at her neck as she practically danced along her route.

_Whose white and sable hours appear_  
The latest flake of Eternity:—  
So many times do I love thee, dear 

__

__

_“Sweeter than the morning angel's song.”_

Abbie whirled around, her heart in her throat. She breathed a sigh of relief and laughed, “Ichabod! I didn't see you there.” Yet there he sat upon one of the benches that dotted the sides of the streets, just a few steps ahead of her. He smiled as he gazed at her over the back of his bench. “Were you waiting for me?”

“Coincidentally, no,” he replied. “When I come to town I often like to sit here and enjoy the silence before the town awakens.” He stood and approached her. “This isn't your customary path to the tavern…”

“It's Friday. Which means we're serving up fish. I need to go to the market to get it fresh,” Abbie explained. She wondered how many times she had passed this spot and not noticed him sitting there on Friday morning.

Ichabod gave her a flourishing bow then offered his arm. “Would my lady enjoy escort on her endeavours?”

Abbie felt her face warm as she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Only if you can get me a better price on fish,” she said with a gentle laugh.

“I can certainly try,” Ichabod replied.

In her heart, Abbie knew that she shouldn't be seen being so friendly with Ichabod. Too many chins liked to wag over juicy gossip and there was already plenty of chit chat concerning herself and the wizard at her side. August had already ask her numerous questions about the state of her relationship with him.

_“You know very well if there was such a gentleman which wished to court me, he would come to you first to ask permission,” Abbie huffed._

_August cocked a brow and smirked. “I didn't ask about a gentleman asked about the wizard.”_

_Abbie wrung the towel in her hands nervously. It was one thing to ask about a courtship when it was just the two of them stuck in the woods, during the snowstorm, after he had saved her life. But that was nearly a month past and she had neither seen nor heard from him since. “Well, he is a consummate gentleman so you should treat him as one.”_

_August simply laughed. “I'm sure he is, little one, I'm sure he is.”_

Abbie gazed up at Ichabod. “I was starting to think you had forgotten about me,” she said softly.

“I could never,” Ichabod murmured, patting the hand on his arm. “Even without my eidetic memory, I warrant I could never forget about you.” He sighed heavily. “Duties of the coven have kept me regretfully very busy. But now that Samhain has passed I should have more free time until at least Thanksgiving.”

Biting her lip nervously, Abbie wondered if it would be too bold of her to invite him to Thanksgiving dinner at the Corbin home. “What plans have you made for Thanksgiving,” she asked.

“I have made none as of yet,” Ichabod said, looking down at her with a gentle smile. He looked into the distance and sighed, “Although several members of the coven have been arguing over who should have the honor of having they're ‘All Knowing Merlin’ at Thanksgiving this year.”

When she gave him a strange look he elaborated, “Merlin is a ranking of sorts. A ranking which I hold.” He gave her a fleeting smile. “However it is not mandatory that I spend the holiday with one of the coven.”

“Well that's happy news!” Abbie grinned. She hadn't considered that there might be lovely witches seeking to win Ichabod's favour. But she couldn't barely contain the smile that threatened her lips when she realized it was her--just a simple tavern maid--that held his attention. 

“You wouldn't by chance be interested in attending Thanksgiving dinner with my family, would you?” She looked away, feeling her face warm even more. “It's only ever me, my sister, Joseph, and August but there's always enough food to fuel an army for three days.”

She worries she had been too presumptuous when Ichabod was silent for a moment. But then he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I would be delighted.”

Abbie grinned up at him. “It will also give you a chance to show my family that you're not a big scary monster.”

“I wouldn't say _that_ ,” Ichabod chuckled. “I can be quite scary when necessary.”

“I've seen you with glowing red eyes, hurling fireballs at Nick,” Abbie pointed out. “I wasn't scared.”

A frown crossed over Ichabod’s face. “I was merely defending your honour in that instance.” She saw doubt appear. “Perhaps…”

“Don't you dare say it's not a good idea for you to court me,” Abbie huffed. He laughed. “I understand that you're magical and are capable of amazing things… sometimes scary things. But I also know you wouldn't do those things without a good reason.”

“How can you be so sure?” Ichabod asked.

Abbie sighed softly. “I'm good at reading people. And you don't strike me as the naughty sort.”

They came to a pause. Ichabod gazed down at her, stroking her jaw tenderly. There was heat in his eyes when he murmured, “Trust me, Miss Mills, I can be a very naughty man when the occasion calls for it.”

She squeezed her thighs together as her breath hitched. Why did she get the feeling he wasn't referring to some dastardly deed? The memory of their night snuggled up in front of his fireplace bolted to the forefront. Their heated kisses, his hands wandering--stroking and grasping with barely restrained passion. 

Abbie fanned her face. “Oh…” she squeaked. “Well… I'm sure you can…” Her brain was starting to get carried away with imaging if that night had gone differently. “Fish!”

Ichabod laughed and continued guiding her down the street.


	2. Tales of Propriety and Discretion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenny is informed of an impending courtship.

Jenny frowned when she heard her sister's laughter from outside. That was very much not like Abbie. Just as it wasn't like Abbie to be cutting it so close to opening time to arrive with the fish. Her brow cocked curiously when she heard a man's voice as well.

Had Abbie happened upon a handsome bachelor at the market? That would be good news indeed! As with custom, it would be impolite for Jenny to marry before her eldest sister was even engaged. So the fact Abbie was talking and laughing with a gentleman meant Jenny just might be able to marry Joe sooner rather than later.

Although, part of Jenny didn't want to get her hopes up. Abbie almost always found fault with any caller. It wasn't that Abbie was particularly picky. She just wanted a husband she could be proud of: someone kind, someone intelligent, someone who appreciated her intelligence, someone who would make an excellent father.

Abbie would always sigh regretfully when another failed. _“There just isn't any real gentlemen anymore. Remember when a gentleman would listen to his wife's counsel? When he would gladly cook a meal along side of her… they just don't make them like that anymore.”_

Jenny would always roll her eyes. Abbie was over here reminiscing about “the good old days” like such a fella would give a woman of their skin tone even a little consideration. _“Yeah Abbie, you know what else those gentlemen had? Slaves. Even if you were lucky enough to be freed, odds are you could only hope to be a mistress at best.”_

Of course Jenny's brand of cold, hard truth had not gone over well with Abbie. After all, it was best for Abbie to not hold men to such an unattainable standard. It was a modern world these days. There was talks of motorized vehicles on the brink. Immunizations! Steam powered engines that could move everything forward! Why would Abbie want to be back in the days before all that just to find a “suitable husband”?

Especially when she could just find some weak willed man and train him how she wanted. Nick Hawley popped to mind. He was handsome, had good connections despite being a scoundrel. But they said retired scoundrels made the best husbands. Not to mention he seemed to enjoy it when Abbie slapped him across the face as hard as she could. And Abbie by no means had a delicate slap. With a year’s courtship Abbie could easily have him moulded into the kind of gentleman she wanted.

_“I bid you good day until later, sir.”_

Jenny edged closer to the door and shifted her position to candidly glimpse out the door. Her blood froze when she saw the wizard placing a kiss on Abbie's hand. She held her breath as he handed Abbie her wicker basket, now brimming with tidy, paper-wrapped fish.

“Until lunchtime, fair maiden,” the wizard said, gazing at Abbie with an indecent amount of adoration for a single man speaking to a single woman.

Once he turned to leave, Abbie leaned against the door jamb, fondling the charm on her necklace as he walked away. She sighed wistfully before finally turning, startling when she saw Jenny. The mood was thus broken. “What?”

Jenny shook her head. “Why are you being overly friendly with that wizard?” She could understand being grateful for his helping save her life but what she had just seen was beyond simple gratitude.

Abbie sucked in a breath. “Well, usually a lady makes a habit of keeping conversation with a gentleman that asks to court her and she accepts.”

“Excuse me,” Jenny yelped. “He did what and you said what?”

Abbie's eyes narrowed dangerously. “You heard me. He's going to be asking you and August for approval. So help me God if you say no I will make sure you and Joe never get married.”

“The custom is he is supposed to ask me and August first,” Jenny pointed out. Perhaps she was just being a little petulant but customs were customs right?

“Yeah, well, he wanted to make sure his intended approved first like a _real_ gentleman should,” Abbie snapped. She threw her basket down on the counter. “He helped me get a good deal on the fish so we shouldn't run out this week. He overheard the seller give a better deal to old man Parrish. The man tried to charge me double but Ichabod stepped in.”

Secretly, Jenny had known the fishmonger always tended to charge them more, even though it was for Mabie's Tavern. Then again men these days tended to overcharge women on principle, simply because they could. The better prices always went to the men because they were “better negotiators” supposedly.

“Apparently he cast a small truth spell on the fishmonger,” Abbie said with a tiny smile. “In the end we got a better deal than Mr. Parrish.”

Her principles told her that she should tell Abbie to throw away the current supply of fish--after all there's no telling what the wizard could have done to the fish while handling them. However Jenny's Common Sense kicked in and told her that they could still charge the same price they normally do for their fish plate at lunch, which would make the tavern more profits.

“Fine. When or if he asks, I will give my approval of a courtship,” Jenny huffed. Not that she would deny it anyway, because she did not wish to find out what would happen if she denied the request. And that was because she feared Abbie's wrath, not the wizard's. “But if he steps a solitary toe out of line just know… I am _not_ scared of him.”

“I never said you were,” Abbie said. “Not that you need to be. He's a very nice person. And I hope you take time to get to know him.”

“He better be,” Jenny grumbled. “Let's get this tavern ready for business.”

The sisters set to their daily grind of prepping the kitchen for Joe's arrival in an hour--making sure the pans were all clean, the oven properly stoked and warming up, chopping and dicing vegetables and herbs, filleting the fish, all in the name of making the day go more smoothly.

When her fiance arrived, Jenny greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. “Just a warning, Abbie said she invited the wizard to Thanksgiving.”

Joe's smile disappeared. “I'm sorry, what? Why would she do that?”

Jenny peered out to make sure Abbie was busy with tables. “Evidently he asked her for a courtship,” she grumped. “And your dad was one of two people she said he had to get approval from.”

“He finally asked… I never thought he would,” Joe cackled. “What?”

“You knew about this?” Jenny asked, her voice pitching in disbelief.

Joe held up his hands. “I didn't know anything about it. It's just as been painstakingly obvious for months that he had some kind of feelings for your sister. Were you the second person?”

“Yeah,” Jenny sighed. “And Abbie has already said that if I do not approve when he asks that she would make it damn near impossible for you and me to ever get married.”

“Ouch.” Joe set one of the iron pots on the oven. “I mean, why would you say ‘no’ anyway? He's a nice guy. He makes your sister laugh with his antics concerning Hawley.” He poured some water into the pot and threw in a few choice ox tails. “Plus, he's got good influence throughout town. Trust me, Abbie could do a lot worse, but she couldn't do much better than to marry the local legend.”

Jenny frowned. “But everyone is terrified of him!”

Joe scoffed. “Maybe the old biddies in town are. But the young folk are lot more open-minded. Yeah, they get caught up in the superstitions and everything that their moms and grandmas go on about, but when they finally meet him in person… they like him and realize he's not that bad.” He scooped up a handful of herbs and garlic, tossed them into the pot. “Besides if you could hear some of the stories Nick tells…”

“Nick and stories are not two words I want in the same sentence ever again,” Jenny chuckled. Maybe Joe was right. Even so, if Nick was still buddy-buddy with the wizard after all he had done to him he couldn't be that bad… could he?

Jenny jumped as the kitchen doors slammed open and Abbie bound in, a hand concealed behind her back. “I need to two more fish plates,” she said with a bright smile. “And Ichabod asked me to give this to you. He said you had asked for it last time he was in town.”

She brought her hand from behind her back, producing a clay pot with some herbs growing in it. Joe gasped and rushed over to take it. “Tell him I said thank you… thank you, thank you…”

Rolling her eyes, Jenny groaned. Of course he would try to win her favour by getting to the people she cared about the most. Everyone knew Joe _loved_ cooking with herbs and spices. She pointed a wooden spoon at Abbie. “You tell that wizard he's going to have to do more than foist gifts on my fiance to get my approval.”

“How dare you insinuate he did this to get your approval,” Joe gasped, hugging the pot to his chest. “I asked for this long before he saved Abbie's life and secluded her in the safety of his lair until she could get home unharmed.”

Jenny's eyes widened and she rushed over to Abbie. He had saved Abbie almost a month ago and now he was wanting approval to marry her? Had they… was Abbie… “Abbie,” Jenny said, her voice low. “Were you and the wizard _discreet_ while you were in his lair?”

“First of all, it's not a lair. It's a little cabin in the woods near the river,” Abbie said flatly. “Secondly, you're going to need to be a little more specific.”

“Are you…” Jenny glanced at Joe then lowered her voice to a whisper. “... _with child_ by the wizard? Is that why you want to be wed?” 

Abbie blinked at her in surprise then burst into laughter. “Jenny, that's the rudest thing you have ever asked me. Of course not! He was helping me recover from nearly freezing to death and you have the audacity to ask if we were _discreet_?”

Jenny became vaguely aware of Joe beginning to quietly whistle a tune as he cooked, pretending not to notice Abbie’s rising voice. “Well, the two of you were left alone after he sent Hawley to town to let me know you were okay!”

“We wasn't alone! Selene was there,” Abbie griped.

“Who's Selene?” Jenny asked. Did he have a servant or something that no one knew about?

“Selene is his familiar,” Abbie replied. “She's his cat but, she's also a witch, but she's also a cat… it's confusing and complicated but she was there to make sure nothing indecent happened.”

The door to the kitchen opened again and a kind faced Spanish woman peeked in. “Hello, ladies,” she preened. “And Joseph.”

“Hey Miss Mabie,” the three of them chorused. 

“Just so you know, they can hear you two fussing outside in the dining room,” Mabie said sweetly. Her eyes fell to the pot of herbs Joe had set on the counter. “Oh! Is that rosemary and thyme?”

Joe beam happily. “Yeah the wizard brought me some because he was trying to get in Jenny's good graces.”

Abbie gave Jenny a pointed glare. “This conversation is done,” she said mildly, then stalked back into the main hall. 

Jenny immediately started kicking herself. Great. Now Abbie was actually legitimately mad at her.


	3. The Perils of Being the Wizard

Nick Hawley plopped down in the seat across from Ichabod. “I got someone that wants to talk to you, personally,” the blond man announced.

“What have I done now, pray tell?” Ichabod asked wearily.

Out of nowhere a plaintive girl practically knocked Hawley out of his seat. “Fifty cents,” she said desperately, putting coins down on the table. Her eyes were red brimmed from tears shed. “Please.”

Ichabod straightened in his seat. The girl was very obviously distraught. “How may I be of service, madam?”

“I need him to love me,” she pleaded. “Please. Why won't you help me?”

Hawley scowled and shifted to another vacant seat at the table. Ichabod cast a glance at the other man, who shrugged, then he looked back at the girl. “Because I said no. Love spells of that nature are strictly forbidden by most covens.”

The girl sniffled softly then reached toward his hand. He withdrew his hands immediately, mostly because there was no telling if this was trickery or not. “You don't understand…” she started. “He's all I think about… he is courting another but he keeps treating me so kind and she is such a nasty woman…”

Ichabod shook his head. “That is not of my concern. And I fear it is you who does not understand.” When her eyes widened innocently, he leaned toward her just slightly. “You're asking for spell which will bend the free-will of another to your bidding. Should the spell ever wear off or God forbid he discover the spell is upon him… he will revert to feeling for you just as he does now, only more confused. With little to no regard to what you have deluded yourself into believing what was real.”

Her mouth opened and closed as tears streamed down her face. “I don't care,” she whispered, choking on a sob. She dug deep into the folds of her dress and supplied a few more coins. “Sixty cent… it's all I have left.”

Ichabod sucked in a breath. He spotted Abbie as she paused, took a look at his face, then swerved to tend to a different patron. _Smart woman_. He lightly tapped his pocket then realized he had a solution in hand. “Do you speak Latin?” he asked.

The girl's eyes lit up. “Yes!”

 _Damnit_. “What about Hungarian?” Perhaps that was obscure enough that she wouldn't speak it...

She shook her head. “No, why?”

Ichabod removed a small tin from his pocket. “I happened to have something which could aid you.” He slid across the table and she eagerly grasp it and held it to her chest. “Unlike most spells of this nature this one is one that is best if you consume the potion.”

When the girl nodded he continued, “For the next seven days, brew a tea from the contents of that tin every morning, and drink it before you eat anything. Afterwards, you need to go to your basin cleanse both your face and your hands and into a mirror you need to say these words with a smile: _Hadd megtanuljak szeretni magam_.”

“ _Hadd megtanuljak szeretni magam_ ,” the girl repeated softly. 

Hawley scribbled down the phrase and passed it to her. “So you don't forget how it should sound.”

“Thank you,” the girl said, then quickly excused herself, leaving her money behind.

Ichabod waved his hand toward the coins. “Take it,” he grumbled. 

“What kind of spell was that?” Hawley asked, scooping the money up and putting it in his pocket. “Seems pretty simple for you.”

Ichabod shrugged indifferently. “It wasn't one. Not really anyway. The brew was just a basic chamomile tea to help her relax.”

“And the incantation?”

“Roughly translated, it means 'let me learn to love myself’,” Ichabod replied. He shrugged again. “Technically I helped her, even if it wasn't how she wanted me to.”

“God, you're such a big softie,” Hawley teased, his eyes lit up when he spotted Abbie heading their way. “Well, hello, Gorgeous,” he purred.

“Hello Gentleman… and Nick,” Abbie greeted, setting cutlery down on the table. She pointed a knife at Nick's face without even looking toward him. “If you so much as think about it I will slice off your hand. And then you have to worry about what my possible future fiance will do to you.”

Hawley paused, his hand hovering in the air, as if to make a grab for her back side. “Your what?”

“Miss Mills has agreed to a courtship if I can garner the approval of both her sister and her foster father,” Ichabod informed. Nick open his mouth to ask a question but Ichabod anticipated it and replied, “Yes, to me.”

The bright grin from Nick was infectious. “Ichabod Crane, you old dog.” He looked up at Abbie. “It was that night at the cabin wasn't it? What did you two get up to after I left?”

“None of your business, Nick,” Abbie deadpanned then smiled. 

“Selene was there,” Ichabod reminded. 

“So. What can I get for you gentlemen?” Abbie asked. She gave Ichabod a wink. “We still have plenty of fresh haddock.”

Nick pulled a handful of change from his pockets and began sorting it on the table.

“I will have the haddock, please madam,” Ichabod said. “Which reminds me…” He picked up a small clay pot from the table. “The younger Mister Corbin requested clippings from my herb gardens. I decided to do better and get him pollinating pairs of the ones he requested so that he may cultivate his own supply. He needs only transfer each bundle to their own planter and it should start multiplying if he cares for them.”

“He will love this,” Abbie cooed. “And Jenny will love that he loves it.” She nudged Nick with her elbow. “What do you want to eat?”

Nick carefully studied his newly sorted change. “I _want_ the haddock but… oh, wait… nope that's a penny. I'll have the stew.” He shrugged. “Maybe next week.”

Ichabod rolled his eyes and sighed. “Bring him the haddock as well. He forgets that I pay him wages for the errands he runs for me,” he stated. 

“Coming right up,” Abbie said, picking up the clay pot. 

She returned to the kitchen, Ichabod couldn't help but admire the sway of her hips as he watched her go. He shifted in his seat then turned his attention to Nick. Nick was grinning like a Jerusalem jackass that had happened upon a bundle of carrots.

“You said you had someone who wanted to talk to me?” Ichabod asked.

“Yeah,” Nick said. “One of the fellas from the papers, Angelo Orion, is willing to pay you _five dollars_ if you will do an interview with him. He claims he's wanting to dissuade the rumours surrounding you--”

“Likely story,” Ichabod grumbled.

“My thoughts exactly,” Nick laughed. “It's the same guy that ran that smear story about you in the first place. The one that demonized you and made you look like some devil worshipping heathen.”

“All the more reason to politely decline the offer,” Ichabod stated.

“There's a kicker though,” Nick said. “He said if you don't want to, he would _understand why_.”

To be fair the reporter had the “worshipping heathen” part right. But the covens didn't subscribe to the Christainized notions of God and the devil. In fact they rolled their collective eyes about it. Other than shifting and a few other things, they were essentially just very enthusiastic gardeners.

“So, do an interview and have him twist and demonize my words, on the cusp of trying to get approval for a courtship with Abbie,” Ichabod sighed. “Or not do one and let him further his demonization of both the covens and myself…”

“Or… do the interview and give him exactly what he wants,” Nick suggested with a roguish grin.

Ichabod narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

The other man was about to elaborate, however voices coming from the kitchen made The Tavern fall silent. _You have the audacity to ask if we were discreet_?

 _The two of you were left alone after he sent Hawley to town to let me know you were okay_!

Miss Mabie, who was occupying the ales and whiskey, hopped off her seat and scurried to the kitchen. It was then that every eye in the tavern moved to Ichabod. He swallowed hard and tugged at his collar. This probably did nothing to still the rumors already circulating about the nature of his and Abbie’s relationship.

“There was no indiscretions thank you,” he huffed. “So kindly mind your own business.”

The patrons looked around with hesitant glances at each other, then went right back to what they had been doing before the voices had distracted them. After all, if the great and powerful wizard told them to mind their own business, it was probably in their best interest to do so. 

The doors to the kitchen burst forth and Abbie stormed from the other room. She let out a long, mellowing breath then put on a smile. She wandered over to Mabie's post to fetch a few drinks and take them to tables.

He could easily do a memory charm on all the patrons to make them forget overhearing Abbie and her sister arguing. But he knew Abbie would not approve, so he stayed his hand. Their eyes met across the tavern. She ducked her head with a shy smile before tending to her duties.

“--and I mean just go all out, dramatic billowing cloak, skull topped cane…” Nick was saying. 

Ichabod shook his head to clear it. “I beg your pardon? Do you wish me to present myself as a wizard or a vampire?” He had only been vaguely paying attention to Nick but he could build the general gist of the other man's suggestions.

“That's not the point. He wants to present you as some dark, evil being, _give him one_. Then be the politest bastard you can be. Then threaten to sacrifice him if he dares to spread further misinformation,” Nick said. 

“Witches don't do ritual human sacrifices anymore,” Ichabod groaned. 

“And you can say that then add, for him, you would gladly make an exception,” Nick nodded curtly. “Then that night I can break into his house and break his legs if he doesn't promise to write an honest piece.”

Ichabod rubbed his temples. “How is that supposed to help my image within the community? I will just politely decline and say I have already had an offer from a competing journalist.”

“Yeah but then you need an actual journalist that would do a good write up about you,” Nick pointed out. 

“Calvin Riggs of the Sleepy Hollow Sentinel has made numerous offers,” Ichabod said. “And I have been told he would gladly do a good write up, as you would say.”

“You're no fun since you got engaged,” Nick teased. “Fine. I'll tell him it's a no. But Riggs has to get his story out before Orion does.”

 _Order_.

Ichabod's head perked up at the sound of Joe's voice. Abbie sighed and stalked into the kitchen. A few moments later, she emerged with two plates in hand. “Here we go boys,” Abbie chimed, setting a plate before each of them. 

“Thank you, Miss Mills,” Ichabod replied, perhaps just a little louder than necessary because he wanted everyone to know he still addressed Abbie properly.

Each plate was laden with two crispily fried fillets of haddock and seared cubes of potatoes. It smelled divine. He was about to tuck in when Abbie knelt down enough that she could speak candidly to him.

“I have it on good authority that if you wished to ask your permission from Jenny the best time to do it would be after we're done for the day at home. She's feeling very guilty right now so she'll agree to anything I want.”

“That is happy news indeed,” Ichabod murmured. “After lunch I have a few errands to run and I can come by and make a call after the two of you are home.”

“Come around dinner, we can feast together. Jenny feeling guilty and having her belly full is a guarantee for success,” Abbie said, grinning impishly.

“Done,” Ichabod vowed. “Dinner with the sisters Mills sounds like a delight few get the offer for.”

Abbie's eyes softened and she reached up to gently pet his beard. “I can't wait.”

He watched her go, his heart full of joy. For the first time since awakening in this modern world, Ichabod felt a strange sense of hope.


	4. A Lady's Guide to Winning the Heart of a Wizard

To say Abbie was flustered would be an understatement. In her head earlier, when she planned all this, everything had gone perfect. Herself, her sister, and Ichabod had shared a simple meal for dinner, they had laughed and joked, Jenny had embarrassed her by telling stories about their childhoods…

But then reality started rearing its ugly head. Further squabbles throughout their day had left Jenny in a bit of a sour mood, and upon arriving home Jenny announced that she was going over to Joe's house for the evening. “Jenny! You can't do that! I already have Ichabod coming over for dinner this evening so he can ask for your permission to court me!” Abbie argued.

“Not my problem,” Jenny snipped.

“There's no way I can let him know that you're not going to be here!” Abbie let out a frustrated groan. “It's not proper for an unmarried man and woman to take dinner without a proper chaperone!”

“Since when do you care about propriety,” Jenny groused. “Besides, you already stayed the night unchaperoned at his house. So what does it matter? It's not like you could find a decent husband now if you wanted to.”

While Abbie reasoned that it was Jenny's moodiness that was the cause of such a rude rebuttal, it still hurt like a swift kick to the chest. “You don't think Ichabod would make a decent husband?” the voice crack with emotion and Jenny's hard facade faded into a regretful one.

“This is exactly why I need to go stay at Joe's tonight,” Jenny sighed. “I am not in the right mood to receive guests tonight.”

“But you're in the right mood to go to Joe's house?” Abbie asked flatly.

The hint of a smile appeared at the corner of Jenny's mouth. “Well, Joe has ways of making me feel better and less moody.”

Abbie already knew what those ways were, which wasn't uncommon for couples engaged to be married. But to push aside an actual request to be present for an important matter, in exchange for fornicating with her fiance was just bad manners.

“Ask him to come by tomorrow at lunch at the tavern,” Jenny shrugged. “I should be in a better mood then.”

“Jenny you know he lives outside of town and only comes in every now and then,” Abbie pleaded. It wasn't uncommon for him to make a trip two weeks in a row but she would never ask that of him.

“Look, you and I both know, even if I did say okay, he still has to go through August,” Jenny said. “So if August says okay, you have my blessings.”

Abbie's heart fell as Jenny snapped her overnight bag closed. She knew, at some point between now and Thanksgiving, she was going to have to have a long, frank talk with August. If anything, to smooth the passage of Ichabod getting approval. However that did not solve her dilemma over what was she was going to do with the small bits of roast in the oven and the fixings she had made to go along with dinner… alone.

_With Ichabod_.

Jenny was right she had never really put much stock in the whole concept of propriety. While there were a few things that she felt we're just rude, Abbie did not much care for people dictating who she could and could not associate with and on what terms. If she, a single woman, wanted to have dinner at her home alone with a single man she was damn sure going to do it! Let the damn chins wag all they wanted!

“Fine,” Abbie said with a nod. “Go ahead and go to Joe's for the evening, I don't care.”

“I'm going whether you care or not,” Jenny chuckled. “Make sure to lock up tight when you get ready for bed.”

Abbie merely glowered as Jenny picked up her bag and made her way out of the house. Almost an hour later, she was still fuming. It dissipated nearly as soon as she heard a knock echo through the house. Abbie's heart left to her throat as she hurried through the house and to the door.

She could see the lumbering silhouette of Ichabod through the glass on the door. Taking a deep breath she turned the lock and pulled open the door. Her heart made a funny little flutter in her chest when he straightened up and puffed out his chest gently before presenting her with a bundle of wildflowers.

“Where did you get these this time of year?” Abbie asked, awed at the full blooms.

“I know a person,” he replied with a bashful smile.

Abbie sighed regretfully. “I have bad news. Jenny decided to stay with her fiance this evening, so she's not here.” She looked away briefly. “I would understand if you don't want to stay for dinner. But I would really like it if you did.”

“Receiving a gentleman caller without your sister present,” Ichabod said, a teasing tone in his voice. “Whatever shall the neighbours say?”

She gestured for him to come closer, looking side to side, as if to see if the neighbours were spying on her. When Ichabod leaned in she sneakily said, “I don't care what they say. Let them talk.”

The heat in Ichabod's gaze made Abbie's heart palpitate once again. “I would love to stay for dinner,” Ichabod rumbled. 

Abbie took his hand and pulled him inside so she could shut the door. The butterflies migrated to the pit of her belly as she watched Ichabod gaze around her home. Her and Jenny's home wasn't much but it was their family home and it was quite comfortable. Most callers were amazed when they discovered such a home belong to two black women.

She led Ichabod to the dining room where she had set places for three people. “Have a seat I'll go fetch dinner.”

“Do you need assistance?” Ichabod asked.

Abbie shook her head. “No. I'm able,” she said with a soft laugh. 

Once Ichabod had pulled out his seat, Abbie hurried to the kitchen to fetch the dinner plates she had prepared. When she returned she noticed ichabod's attention was on a portrait on the wall. It was a portrait of her great-grandmother Grace Dixon. Abbie had always admired the painting because her great-grandmother looked so regal and poised.

“It's my great-grandmother,” Abbie supplied, setting a plate before Ichabod. She put her own plate down across from him and took a seat. 

“Grace Dixon,” Ichabod said softly. “I knew her. She was such a kind and beautiful woman. Both inside and out.” His eyes flickered to Abbie. “Talented silversmith… and a very powerful witch.”

Abbie's fingers flew to the charm at her neck. “A witch? Are you sure?”

Ichabod nodded. “She taught me everything I know about herbalism,” he offered. His hand delicately touched his chest. “She is the one that made it possible for me to awaken in this era unharmed.”

His gaze dropped to her fidgeting fingers at her neck. “Now I know why the magic attached to that pendant seems so familiar,” he continued. “Every witch weaves a small piece of themselves into any magic they perform. Like a signature on an artist's painting.”

“A small piece of my great-grandmother protects me,” Abbie whispered. “I like the thought of that.”

“And you're certain you do not have an inclination toward the Craft?” Ichabod asked. “Generally is passed on to the eldest daughter by the eldest daughter.”

Abbie shook her head. “I know Jenny dabbles a little. But she's never really been able to do anything more impressive than make a flavourful dish for dinner.”

“Kitchen witchery is not a magic that should be snubbed,” Ichabod boasted eagerly. “I would dare say it's some of the most powerful magic available to mankind. Not everyone can focus on the inane rituals and rites… but almost everyone is capable of cooking. And everyone eats.”

Abbie laughed and held her hand out. “Blessings before eating?” Ichabod reached out and took her hand. “Would you like the honours?”

“Thank you,” Ichabod said with a nod. They both bowed their heads. Abbie had never heard a witch say meal blessings so this would surely be interesting. “Great and blessed Goddess, thank you for the bountiful harvests which have made this meal possible. Bless the hands which have prepared it--from the planters to the cook--with prosperity and happiness. We invoke your grace and love upon this home… Blessed Be.”

“Blessed be,” Abbie murmured, looking across the table. “I didn't know witches said grace.”

Ichabod's thumb stroked the back of her hand. “That was actually a blessing your ancestor would speak over meals,” he said. “Her employer was a deeply religious man so he insisted that everyone, including the Heathens, give thanks.”

“Heathens?” Abbie asked curiously. “Isn't that an insult?”

Ichabod shook his head. “Not amongst our kind it's not,” he replied. “It's… what we are. We practice the Old Ways, pray to the Old God's. That's all it means. The Church built such a stigma around _pagans_ that we didn't feel comfortable using it.”

They feasted in companionable silence for several minutes. Abbie swallowed hard then asked, “When my sister marries, she plans to permanently move residence to Joe's house. Would you be opposed, when we wed, that we live here?”

“Absolutely no opposition would be heard from me,” Ichabod replied. “I think even Selene will be very eager to live here as well. I can always reserve the cabin for a space to perform magic and rituals once a month.”

Abbie released a breath she had not realized she was holding. While she would not oppose living outside of town in the cabin, it was far from the bustle of town that she held so dear. “Did you have _servants_ in your home in the past?”

Ichabod cocked eyebrow in a manner that said he knew exactly what she was actually asking. “When I shared a home with my late wife, we had no servants because I could not afford to pay a decent wage. Soldiers and scholars alike were often the most lacking in coin. And I was both.” 

He looked toward the portrait of Grace. “I performed menial tasks and the like to get enough money to buy a nice house for the family I thought I had… that I wanted.” Ichabod shook his head to clear it. “I was disinherited by my father when I joined the revolution. He felt we should honor and obey our king even though he was a complete and utter Madman.”

“So you didn't have slaves?” Abbie asked.

Ichabod shook his head. “I was born about a decade after it was abolished in England. So when I came to America, I was a firm abolitionist. While some of my associates wanted to debate the humanhood of the slaves, I was firm in my belief that they were human beings and should be treated as such.”

Abbie knew that it should not have made her feel a little smug, but right now she really wanted to rub it in Jenny's face. There was always the morning, when Jenny would come back in order to freshen herself for the day.

She noticed Ichabod grinning at her. “What?”

“You're smiling like the cat who got the cream,” he pointed out.

Abbie folded her arms on top of the table and lean toward him. “Maybe I am,” she teased. “And maybe you're the cream.” He raised eyebrow, a wicked gleam in his bright blue eyes. Abbie felt her skin flush and she looked away, covering her mouth. “That was… inappropriate.”

“I promise not to tell anyone,” Ichabod said, his voice dropping to a low, seductive timbre. He looked down when his spoon clicked against the glass of the bowl, to find it empty. 

Abbie looked down at her own bowl, which was also surprisingly empty. Her mind raced to come up with a way to keep from having Ichabod leave just yet. She bolted to her feet. “I will take this stuff to the kitchen and then we can go to the sitting room to have something to drink.”

“Do--”

“I don't need help,” she laughed. “But thank you for trying to offer.”

Abbie gathered the the dishes and hurried to the kitchen. She reasoned that would be plenty of time to wash everything up in the morning. After all, Mabie and her daughters ran the tavern on Saturdays and Sundays. Or at least I had been her plan.

Apparently just putting a little bit of water in each of the bowls was not enough for her. Instead she completely washed everything up anyway. Abbie shook her head at her reflection in the window.

“Hmm…” Abbie hummed, studying her reflection a little more closely. She delicately untied the strings at her cleavage and reach down into her top to boost to up her bosom. For a moment she debated tying it back but then she left it open, so that when she returned there would be plenty for Ichabod to feast his eyes upon.

Perhaps that way he wouldn't mind too much that she had just kind of forgot about him and cleaned the entire kitchen.

When she returned to the dining room, Ichabod was standing near the portrait of her great-grandmother. She paused to take in the look of sadness on his face. Abbie couldn't fathom having to realize everyone you held dear had been gone for a century.

“She passed a few years before I was born,” Abbie said. “My mama always had fond memories of her to talk about.”

“As anyone should,” Ichabod replied. “She was a kind, generous, and beautiful woman. Not too different from you, really.” When Abbie blushed and looked away, he took her hand. “I only speak the truth no reason to be embarrassed.”

“Shall we retire to the sitting room?” Abbie suggested.

“I shall follow my lady wherever she leads,” Ichabod murmured, kissing her hand. His gaze went to the skin she had exposed and she saw a hint of a different sort of hunger in his eyes.

And there went her heart doing the butterflies again. Honestly if he wasn't careful she was going to suggest he stay the night. And that thought was really not something she should have had because now she was really debating it.

Abbie led him out of the dining room. Just as they reached the sitting-room she turned and looked up at him. “Have you already made accommodations for the evening? I couldn't imagine you walking home this late at night.”

“Nicholas usually keeps a room available for me at his home whenever I come to town,” Ichabod said. “But, alas, I sent him to my cabin to make certain Selene was taken care of in my absence. I'm certain I can find accommodations at one of the inns.”

_Abbie no, don't you dare_ , she told herself. “We have a guest room that you could stay in.”

“That is sorely tempting,” Ichabod replied. “But I fear, if I were to stay here for the night, that it would not be the guest room which I took my rest.”

Abbie glanced down at their still-joined hands, biting her bottom lip to hide a smile. Her heart was racing and it felt hard to breathe. But when she finally looked up at him, her decision was made. “You're right. It wouldn't be.”

She had only a brief moment to feel a warm pang between her legs at the heat in Ichabod's eyes before his mouth was upon hers.


	5. The Perils of Propriety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got around to finishing this installment! Going to set up a Series tab for it so all parts of the (eventual) Trilogy can be found easier.

If one had asked Abbie what her plans for this night included, “climbing Ichabod like he was a tree” would not have been on the agenda. But yet here she was. Clamoring up his tall frame, so that she could wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him fully.

What had started outside of the sitting room had migrated up the stairs and down the corridor to her bedroom door. She feared, at this rate, they would not make it into said bedroom. The pending promise of no interruptions until the wee hours of the morning was making her not care whether they did or not.

Ichabod's mouth was too hot, his hands seemed to sear straight through her dress and heat her flesh. Lord have mercy upon her for removing her corset upon arriving home. But bless the invention of high waisted skirts that, on her figure, rendered corsetry irrelevant. She had merely the thin layers of her clothes between her and his gentle, exploring hands.

Abbie gasped as he gathered her skirt and single layer of petticoats up above her knees, allowing her the ability to wrap her legs around his waist. The moment her lips parted, his tongue darted inside her mouth to languidly taste her. She shivered as she felt his hands glide effortlessly along her thighs until he could grip the bare flesh if her backside.

He rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingled as he gently ground his hips between her legs. Abbie whimpered as gentle pangs of pleasure shivered her down her spine, her own hips moving in time to Ichabod's movements. She fisted the material of his coat and then his hair.

“Ichabod…” she groaned.

“Yes, my Treasure?”

Abbie tried to speak but all that came from her lips was a soft squeak. She swallowed hard and tried again without, any avail. “My bedroom…” she finally croaked, blindly reaching for the knob. 

Ichabod smiled wickedly, making that panging part of her person clench. She felt his hand at her back while his other grabbed the doorknob and gave it a turn. It was only moments later that they were falling onto her bed. Abbie arched and twisted beneath him, trying to get his mouth in all the best places.

His teeth grazed a sensitive spot just below her ear. When she bucked against him, his head jerked back. “Forgive me, I should have asked,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose against hers. “Are you--what I mean to say is…” Abbie giggled when the apples of his cheeks flushed. “Have you ever… been with another in an intimate manner?”

Abbie swallowed hard. “There was once, years ago, when I wasn't yet twenty…” If her voice wavered, she wasn't sure. She knew how men in her own society were about marrying girls who had already had their flower plucked. But what about the people of Ichabod's time? What of the magical folk? “Is… is that going to be a problem?”

“Absolutely not,” Ichabod replied softly, brushing his knuckles along her cheek. “Although, I would very much like to have his name so I can have a strongly worded conversation over behaving so dishonourably toward a lady.”

Abbie laughed quietly. “It's not worth the effort,” she said. “I would sooner never hear nor speak his name ever again.”

Ichabod pursed his lips and hummed. “Not worth the effort? Oh now that shall not do. If a boy seeks to disparage a lady's reputation, the very least he should do is make it worthwhile.”

“How about you make it worthwhile?” Abbie asked. “Because I doubt my reputation will ever recover from this.”

There was a temporary hesitation in Ichabod's eyes. But then Abbie kissed his lips and he seemed to no longer worry over her growing past having a reputation of being consorted to a powerful wizard. His fingers made quick work of any ties or buttons they found. Abbie moaned softly then pulled back, hiding her face in her hand. “Sorry,” she whispered.

“For what?” he whispered in return. “For letting me know you're enjoying yourself?” He searched her face for a moment. “I fear I cannot, with a clear conscience, let you go this night without experiencing as much pleasure as your body can handle.”

Abbie squeaked with surprise then giggled. “Is that a threat, oh great and powerful wizard of the forest?”

“It is,” he murmured, licking his lips as he tugged at her skirt and it inched down slowly. 

Abbie gasped in shock and grabbed his wrist. “What are you doing?”

Ichabod cocked a brow but paused. “I was certain you knew that this was an act best suited to as little clothing as possible?”

“Is it?” Abbie blinked in confusion. The suitor from her younger days had not been so concerned with removal of clothing. To be fair they had just shuffled clothing out of the way for the rather painfully disappointing deed. When Ichabod nodded, she bit her bottom lip as she contemplated letting herself be in just a shift for what was about to happen. “It's not proper.”

“I won't tell anyone,” he whispered conspiratorially. His eyes twinkled with wicked delight. “But goodness are you in for a treat when it comes to dancing naked under the full moon every month.”

“Naked,” Abbie gasped in shock. “You really do that? You seem so proper… I thought it was just a myth.”

Ichabod shook his head slowly. “We present ourselves as ladies and gentlemen in society, but when away from prying eyes we become naughty little things.” He sombered and blinked slowly. “Is that alright?”

It occurred to Abbie that if he was seeing her naked, she would also be seeing _him_ naked. She had imagined pulling off his tidy ascot more than once and kissing his throat, as she had see a few of the red ladies do at the pub to other men. She had been embarrassed by the path of her lustful brain. But here, alone in her home, with a man that was _asking_ her if she was comfortable with the idea…

Abbie slowly nodded and Ichabod smiled brightly. If she was to spend her life with this wild man, she would have to get used to some changes. Especially the part where he apparently had no problem being as salacious as possible if no one saw it. Although, to be fair, Abbie had a feeling she would adjust very well to the change.

Especially when he stood and started tugging her skirt and petticoat down her legs. Her heart beat faster and she felt _giddy_. The excitement pulsing through her veins was nothing compared to her previous experience. And she kept hearing him say _as much pleasure as your body can handle_ echoing in her mind.

She knew, from listening to the red ladies that it was possible--albeit rare--that one could see the face of God when in the throes of pleasure. 

Abbie gulped hard when Ichabod gazed at her stockings and heeled-boot clad legs. Why did he have to look at her like she was some sort of delicious treat he was about to savour? Her eyes widened when he caught her behind her knees and dragged her to the edge of the bed.

So breathless was she that she couldn't even ask what he was doing before he dropped to his knees in front of her and licked a path up each of her thighs in turn. Abbie reasoned it was probably in her best interest to just shut her mouth and see where this was going for herself instead of interrupting him with more questions that would undoubtedly just end with him doing exactly what he was currently doing.

Besides, that central part of her person had become positively excited by the warm wetness of his tongue.

“Oh, Jesus,” she cried out when she felt his lips at a place that most definitely was _not_ her thighs. Her hand fell to the back of his head to grip his hair as his _incredibly skilled_ lips and mouth made her feel some of the most unladylike things in her life.

When Abbie glanced downward, her heart leapt into her throat at the sight of Ichabod's head between her legs, his hands gently gliding along the outside of her thighs as he eagerly feasted himself. Her fingers curled into his silky hair as her back arched. If she wasn't mistaken, she felt him grin and double his efforts.

Abbie's eyes rolled back and an almost inhuman groan rolled from deep in her chest and out of her lips. A jolt coursed through her body, making her choke on a gasp. Heat flushed her cheeks and down her neck and chest, making her nipples tighten.

She swore she saw spots as pleasure like she had never known rocked her to her very core. Abbie lay there panting as Ichabod gave her centre a few more playful nips and sucks before sitting back on his heels. Her hands flopped uselessly onto the bed, she felt so boneless and every inch of her body felt like it was singing.

Ichabod climbed onto the bed and settled next to her, stroking her cheek as he waited patiently for her to rejoin him. Abbie smiled sweetly, feeling drunk from… whatever had just transpired. She licked her lips and tugged at his shirt, trying to pull it free of his trousers. However, she couldn't seem to muster her normal strength and pouted.

Her love chuckled and pushed himself into a seated position, then twisted around so he could straddle her thighs. Abbie's eyes widened as he gazed down at her, slowly peeling away his waistcoat and shirt. “Is this what you wanted,” he asked hotly.

Abbie nodded as he planted his hand against the mattress, one at either of her shoulders. He leaned down and caught her lips in a searing kiss. She moaned softly as pressed her palms against his chest. His skin felt so hot against her hands. Her fingers tangled into the hair and curled as he shuddered.

“Abbie,” he groaned softly. “I wish to see all of you and to kiss every inch of your skin.”

“Okay,” she whispered, nodding. “Only if I can do the same to you.”

“Certainly my dear, I wouldn't dream of having it any other way.”

When Ichabod kissed her again, they both set to pulling and tugging at whatever clothing remained until they were skin to skin. Abbie's head fell back as his lips journeyed down her throat and to her chest. He fell into place between her thighs as he tugged at one of her nipples with his teeth.

Abbie felt like crying because the way he was touching her felt so good.

"Ichabod," she moaned loudly. Her back arched as his mouth made a wet path along her side and across her belly. She yelped when she felt a sudden, intense dampness between her thighs.

Ichabod’s head jerked upward and he looked toward her door. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Abbie asked lazily, her body singing with delight. She turned his face back toward her and pulled his lips to hers. Whatever had been worrying him seemed to become the least of his concerns as he returned the kiss and deepened it. Abbie sighed softly as his hands moulded to her every curve, his fingers learning every dip and plane.

This was something she could definitely see herself spending the rest of her life enjoying. He seemed to fit so perfectly against her despite their differences in size. 

His mouth started moving hungrily against her skin, Abbie gasped as his teeth grazed the side of her breast. His hands grasped her hips roughly and hoisted her against him so she could feel how much he wanted her, against her thigh. Oh it was beginning to be entirely too much! Surely she’d faint from want before he finally made love to her! 

Abbie arched against him again, hoping he would get good enough sense to realize she wanted him just as much. “Ichabod…” she groaned. “Ple--”

They both jumped as her bedroom door was trust open. “Abbie I’m--” Jenny stopped cold in the doorway, mouth hanging open. She opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to find words.

“Jenny!” Abbie shrieked. She hurriedly grabbed a pillow to cover herself and thrust another into Ichabod’s lap.

Her eyes wide as saucers, Jenny ducked her head and squeaked, “Sorry!” She quickly left the room, slamming the door behind her. “ _I’ll be in the sitting room_ ,” was followed by Jenny’s rapidly retreating footsteps.

Abbie felt her face warm as she considered exactly what could be going through her sister’s mind at that moment. _Honestly we get in one sisterly scuffle and you try to throw your reputation out the window!_ She tucked her hair behind her ear and glanced toward Ichabod shyly. His eyes were wide. He looked like he had just stared Death in the face and Death had chosen to ignore him.

The apples of his cheeks flushed and he glanced towards her. “I take it, that is my invitation to make my way home?”

“No!” Abbie said, putting a hand on his wrist. “It’s far too late for you to go home. No telling what sorts of creatures are out roaming the forest trails…” Her voice trailed off when his eyes twinkled with amusement. “What?”

Ichabod leaned in and brushed his lips over hers. He rested his forehead against hers, peering into her soul. “They wouldn’t dare infringe upon my journey home. But if it would make you feel better, Mister Hawley lives nearby. I can take my rest at his home.”

“I could tell my sister you are staying the night with me,” Abbie suggested.

“Tempting,” he murmured. “So terribly tempting, but this has reminded me as to why I wished to seek the approval of your family first.” When she cocked a brow, he added, “I am more likely to retain my life as it currently stands.”

Abbie swallowed hard. “When can I see you again?”

“Tomorrow, if it is your desire,” he said, taking her face in his hands. He placed tiny kisses at either corner of her mouth before kissing her lips.

A soft moan came from the back of his throat that made Abbie shiver. She pouted gently when he pulled away. “I should go,” he whispered. Abbie nodded mutely. He kissed her again, Abbie melted into his arms, her hands sliding up his chest. “Your sister,” he said against her lips.

Abbie was tempted to say her sister could just bloody well get over it, but Ichabod was right. It would be best to wait until they had August’s approval. It didn’t do well to get her hopes up over something that might not happen. With a heavy sigh, Abbie pulled away, the pillow she had been covering herself with falling away as she started gathering her clothing to don them.

Before she pulled on her bloomers, she glanced toward Ichabod, would had his trousers in hand, staring at her with a heated smile on his face. He licked his lips then shook his head to clear it. “Thanksgiving cannot come soon enough.”

A grin spread over Abbie’s face and she felt her face warming as she used her shaky hands to start pulling her clothes on. Nothing, and she meant absolutely nothing, would be able to keep her from walking on air for the next few weeks. Not even the strong words Jenny would undoubtedly be having with her after she shut the entry door behind Ichabod would be wiping a smile off her face any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be Continued...


End file.
